In a Different Story
by Idunnowhy
Summary: What do you do when the woman you want is having your baby and you can't do a damn thing to help her? A shared moment between TJ and Young over their restless daughter leads to unsettling revelations between the two.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Yes, I know. Fic writing ADD strikes again :) I'm a huge fan of the entire Stargate franchise though, and I thought there was a lot missing from the whole TJ/Young relationship throughout Season 1. Because really, can you avoid having any personal conversations with the woman who's having your baby? I don't think so. So this picks up sometime after she tells Young she's expecting but before the Lucien Alliance attacks. No spoilers for Season 2, because Tim C Girl lets me live that way. All characters are not mine, but there are days I really wish they were. I have no idea how long this is going to be. Roll with me on this one. And enjoy!**_

**Chapter 1**

**Young's POV**

Young would never tell her he'd been watching. Standing in the dark corners of the hallway outside the infirmary he watched as TJ bustled about, patching this, stitching that. Combing through her resources to make every last needle and piece of thread count, because god knew when they were going to get any more. Every day she looked just a little more tired, a little more stressed, while her stick-thin body grew round with his baby.

His baby. He still wasn't used to that, still hadn't wrapped his mind around the fact that after all the years he'd asked-begged-Emily for a family he was now having the child he'd always wanted with another woman. A woman who wasn't nearly hard enough for what she was going to go through because of him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms the way he had when she told him she was pregnant, to use his name and his reputation to shield her from the barrage of questions and skepticism he knew she was going to face when they got back to Earth with a baby in tow.

He wanted to stick her in bubble wrap and tuck her away on a shelf-or, better yet, send her home, where she wouldn't have to swallow her pride every time he managed to talk, bully or bribe someone into making sure she got the extra rations she needed to avoid the constant malnutrition dogging her heels.

The second was beyond his control right now, and he'd given up the right to do the first the day he'd used his rank and his marriage as an excuse to walk away from her in the first place.

TJ wasn't the type to fall into bed with a man just because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Whether he'd been her commanding officer or one of the geeks in engineering, he knew she'd have never let him do all the things he'd done to her during those long, lonely nights on Icarus unless she'd cared about him. Knowing that sooner or later, one of them was going to get hurt, and knowing it was probably going to be her, he'd been the worst type of bastard to let those feelings lead them to this.

He'd had nothing to offer her then, and he had even less to give her now. He couldn't help her. He couldn't protect her. Hell, he couldn't even claim his child as his own, and it was tearing him apart. But knowing Wray, the fact that they were several billion light years away from the nearest court martial wouldn't stop the IOA from seeing that justice was served.

He deserved it.

TJ didn't.

So for now all he could do was watch, look for little ways to make it easier for her, and try not to flinch every time he saw the hope and the raw, naked pain in her eyes she tried to hide every time he walked through her door.

Of course, on a ship the size of the Destiny there was only so long you could lurk without getting caught, even if you were in charge of the damned expedition. So he shouldn't have been surprised the night he opened the doors to his quarters and saw her standing there, barefoot, her blonde curls tumbling down around the shoulders of a shirt he was pretty sure belonged to Brody.

It was easy to steel himself against her during the day, when he had the ship and its crew standing as a buffer between them. The distractions kept him from remembering things like how soft those curls felt between his fingers, how smooth her skin was beneath her t-shirt, how she made those soft, breathy moans when he pressed his lips right below her ear. There were no distractions here, and he had to stuff his itchy fingers into his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and holding on the way he'd been dying to since the minute he realized they were stranded on this damned ship.

"Colonel." TJ's tentative smile was wan in her pale face. Worry clenched his gut while he fought to keep his own expression steady. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." Stepping back, he let her slip past him into the room, surprised when she pushed the button to close the doors behind them. They were alone for the first time since the day he'd looked at her across his desk and told her it was over, and he couldn't help but wonder why. "What can I do for you, TJ?"

She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Young arched his eyebrows, surprised. Waiting. It wasn't like her to be indecisive. She'd never had a problem telling him exactly how she felt about-well, everything. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. It was the first thing he'd lov..

'Don't go there.'

God, he'd made such a mess of things. If something really was wrong she should be on Earth, with a doctor, and a man who could wrap himself around her in the night and tell her it was going to be okay. He couldn't give her either, and concern and guilt and a healthy dose of self-loathing made his voice sharper than it needed to be.

"Were you taking the baby out for a midnight stroll and just happened to end up here, or was there something you needed?"

TJ flinched, and he cursed himself again. He couldn't get his balance, but it wasn't fair to take it out on her. Before he could apologize (for what, he wasn't sure-they didn't have enough time to finish listing all of his many sins), however, she ducked her head, hunched her shoulders and spoke.

"I just…the baby's moving around a lot tonight and…it's stupid." She looked up, giving him a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, sir. I'll head back to my quarters. Good night."

She headed for the door, but before she'd gone three steps he reached out and caught her by the arm. Something in his gut told him that whatever she'd come here to tell him was important to her, and he was going to regret it if he let her walk out that door. His gut had kept him alive for a long time. After awhile, even the most stubborn ass learns to listen.

"TJ. What did you want to tell me?"

Eyes wide, she jerked her attention from the door to his face, then down to the hand on her arm. Knowing she'd bolt the minute he let her go, he just stood and waited patiently. She didn't have the patience to wait him out. She never had.

Finally, she rewarded him with another soft, watery smile.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her smile. She had a smile that, when you kicked it on full beam, could light up the darkest corners of any room. He hadn't seen that smile in a very long time.

"I just…I thought you might want a chance to feel the baby move. Sir."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**TJ's POV**

"Excuse me?"

The dull, flat, disbelieving tone, combined with the Colonel's patented level, empty stare, made TJ cringe. Coming here had been a mistake. She'd known it almost as soon as she opened the door and found herself looking into those impassive eyes that didn't seem to care whether she was there, in her quarters or in Timbuktu, as long as she wasn't bothering him.

Tears stung the back of her throat and were brutally forced back. This heartwarming experience was just another nail in the coffin of whatever it was the two of them had back on Icarus. He was through with her. He'd made that perfectly clear. So why did she keep coming back like a whipped puppy? What masochistic part of her drove her to set herself up for rejection over and over again?

You'd think by now she'd be able to take a hint.

But…she'd been watching him since they landed on Destiny. She'd seen the way his shoulders slumped a little more every day, how he spent more time hiding in his quarters or visiting Brody's still than he did interacting with the crew. She'd watched the determination in his eyes fade to a dull sheen of failure, while the drive that had made him one of the most respected men on Icarus fizzled to nothing.

And he'd been watching her. TJ had caught him a couple of times, staring at her with sadness and regret before he turned and walked away. Following her when he thought she couldn't see him, content to watch and observe in that silent, implacable way of his. She knew the Colonel had left orders for her rations to be doubled, and for more staff to help with the day-in, day-out management of the infirmary. She wasn't on the teams that went through the gate anymore unless it was absolutely necessary, and while her pride kicked and screamed at the special treatment part of her clung to the fact that he was giving it to her without her having to ask.

They hadn't talked about the baby much since that first night, when he'd let her drench the shoulders of his uniform with her shame and her fear. Their conversations since then had been carefully limited to the bare necessities-how she was feeling, what supplies she was going to need, whether or not she would be able to continue her duties. He was the perfect personification of a solicitous officer with a pregnant woman under his command.

If she hadn't been there, she'd never have guessed this was his baby too.

It wasn't an accident. She knew what happened to women who got knocked up by their CO, and to the officers involved. She wasn't the first to have an affair with a superior officer, and while she hated it she could certainly understand why he thought he was doing her a favor by keeping her child's paternity a secret. She could almost respect him for it.

Things might have been different if they were back on Earth, if she'd been able to go to medical school, if she'd been able to get out from under his command the way she'd planned. She'd have liked to think that she'd have told him sooner or later, and that they could have quietly worked something out. General O'Neill was a good man; as long as she was out of the military she didn't think he'd do more than rip them both a new one when he found out.

And because she knew this man she wanted-needed-to believe that no matter how little he wanted to spend time with her, the Colonel would have wanted to see the baby when he was back on Earth; however, she knew that even if he didn't, his sense of responsibility would demand he at least contribute to its support. While she'd have infinitely preferred being able to give her child a father, a single mother couldn't afford to be picky.

But they weren't on Earth, which meant they didn't have any choices. This was an all or nothing situation. They either admitted they had an affair that resulted in the blooming, kicking fetus bouncing around in her uterus and accepted the consequences, or they kept the secret for as long as it took, leaving TJ alone with a baby that deserved to know its father and the Colonel completely shut out of the baby's life except in the most casual of ways.

It looked like he'd decided that 'nothing' was the way to go.

TJ already loved this baby so much…and as much as she hated to admit it, in the dark hours of the night she knew she still loved him too. She couldn't change the rules, but love made it impossible for her to let him miss out on this miniature miracle altogether. So she'd let impulse push her out of bed and down the hall when she felt the baby kicking around, wanting to share something, anything with the man who spent his days acting like he didn't give a damn.

Act in haste, repent in leisure. She was regretting that impulse now that she was standing here, in his quarters, looking like something the cat dragged in while he (still looking disgustingly good in his standard-issue t-shirt and black BDUs) eyed her like a cat about to gobble up a baby bird. Lightly resting one hand on her abdomen as if to protect the baby inside, she waited for yet another rejection that might, finally, convince her that chasing after him was a waste of her time.

Convinced he was going to send her away, she was completely unprepared when he stepped forward and reached out to rest his hand gently below hers.

"Here?" His voice was gruff, as impersonal as it always was when he talked to her these days, but his touch was gentle. She opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat. It had been so long since he'd had his hands on her, and the burn from his fingers against her chilled skin (it was never quite warm enough on Destiny) sent hormones that had been a little unstable anyway into overdrive.

'This takes maternal instinct to a whole different level,' she thought wryly, fighting the urge to curl herself up into him and never come out. Her body knew his touch intimately, recognized it and, just because the only luck she'd had lately was bad, associated it instantly with the life growing inside her. Her feral subconscious screamed that this, finally this, was where he belonged, while her frontal lobe staged a full-on debate about how ridiculous that was when you were talking about a married man.

Before she had the chance to embarrass herself, however, a tiny foot connected solidly with its father's hand. The movement surprised a laugh out of him, transforming his expression and stealing her breath away when he shifted his hand against her stomach to feel it again. The Colonel's gaze lifted to hers, the wonder and disbelief in his smile tugging an answering one from her, and without letting herself think twice about it she laid her hand on top of his. For that one shining moment, her circle was complete.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Young's POV**

He caught his breath at the sensation of the baby squirming under his fingers, the steady thunk against his palm that said there really was a little person in there. And that little person was already itching to get out and play for the Redskins.

"Does he do this all night?"

"Most of the time." It wasn't hard to understand why they said pregnant women glowed. TJ's smile brightened and spread when she talked about the baby. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful. "She's feisty-and nocturnal. I'm learning to sleep through it."

"She?"

"Makes just as much sense as calling it a he," she retorted, laughing when he scrunched up his face. "And I can't stand to call it an 'it'. Truth is, I don't know. It'll be a surprise."

Young tried to imagine sleeping with someone wriggling around in his stomach, doing their damndest to keep time on his ribs. The idea sent the same cold chill down his back he'd had the first time he saw a Goa'ould take a human host. There was a reason women had babies. Most of the men he knew wouldn't survive the first trimester.

"A welcome one, yes?" He grinned at her, still wrapped up in the giddy wonder of it all. This was a moment he'd honestly never thought he would get to experience. Things were still so weird between them, and with the constant threat of the IOA hanging over his head…well, to be honest, he hadn't let himself think too hard about it.

Intellectually he knew the baby was coming. One of the first shirts she'd borrowed when hers stopped fitting had been his, after all. But until he felt it moving under his hands, it hadn't been real. Just another problem he had to deal with on Destiny. Just another strange twist that made it harder for he and TJ to walk away from the mess their relationship had become.

He hadn't thought in terms of feeling the baby move, or hearing its heartbeat on the monitor he knew TJ used to measure its growth. They hadn't talked about whether she wanted him with her when she went into labor. He hadn't thought about tiny hands and feet, or curly hair, or little arms that would wrap around him while pudgy lips called him 'Daddy'. He hadn't even let himself dream about actually holding his baby in his arms. Now, feeling the little imp kicking eagerly beneath their joined hands, it was impossible to think about anything else.

"Is it, sir?"

"Is it what, TJ?"

"A welcome surprise?" Her smile had faded, the joy in her eyes filling with uncertainty while her fingers tightened on his.

"Sure. The more the merrier, right?" He tried to sound reassuring. God knew TJ had enough on her plate right now. The truth was, it hadn't been when she'd told him. He supposed it was normal for a man who'd never planned on being a father to be blindsided by the news, but that didn't stop him from regretting the fact that his knee-jerk reaction had been to ask if it was his. He'd been angry, afraid, guilty and, ultimately, resigned, too old not to know that how he felt about having a baby on this ship didn't matter. It was what it was, and they were going to have to live with it.

Just another day on Destiny. God, Emily was going to kill him. How the hell was he going to break the news to her when he got back to earth?

"Yes sir." Her voice was soft, and he could see sleep starting to tug at her heavy eyelids. No two ways about it, she needed to go to bed, but with the baby still rolling happily he was tempted to ask her to stay. Just to lie down with him and sleep while he cherished this first visit with the child they'd made. With things the way they were between the two of them, he didn't know how many more chances he was going to get.

But her fingers on his were warm and soft, and he knew they both had too many memories of the last time he'd asked her to stay. The last time they'd been together, before Emily had threatened to leave and he'd confessed everything. The last time he'd held her in his arms, before he'd broken it off and put them both through hell. So Young did what he did best: Gathered his composure around him like a cloak and stepped away.

"It's late. We should probably…"

"Yeah, I should…" She waved her hand toward the door. This time he didn't stop her, just folded his hands behind his back and watched her walk away. Again. Like he'd been doing over and over again since they found out they were stranded on Destiny. This time, however, he forced himself to keep his mind carefully blank so he wouldn't give in to temptation, scoop her off her feet and lay her down in his bed where she belonged.

And where the hell did that thought come from?

When she got to the control panel she paused, her hand hovering over the button that would send her back to her own bed.

"Sir?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?" The word was soft, husky. With his throat swollen with regret and an aching tenderness for the fragile, shadowy outline cast in soft relief by the lights around his desk, it was a wonder he could speak at all.

"Good night." TJ's eyes were very carefully trained on the door. Probably just as well. He didn't know what she would see if she looked at his face right then, but if the knot in his stomach when the doors swished closed behind her meant anything it probably would have said a helluva lot more than he wanted her to hear.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Flopping back on the couch, he threw an arm over his eyes to block out the light and, for the first time since TJ had told him she was pregnant, let himself seriously consider what was going to happen when the baby came. He'd thought he could hold himself at a distance, make sure the kid was clothed and healthy and safe and let TJ decide what to tell him (or her) about the rest when the time was right.

But tonight, while the mental image of TJ in his bed, wrapped in his arms while the baby kicked and squirmed between them, was still fresh in his mind, he knew it wouldn't be that easy. When he'd felt the baby move something inside him had shifted, sliding down a slippery slope as he realized he'd do anything, anything to make sure his child and its mother were safe. Even spit in the face of the IOA and the American military if it meant keeping them close by.

What would have happened if TJ had gone off to medical school like she'd planned? Or if he'd given in and let her stay on the planet with Caine and the others? It was another question he didn't dare ask himself too often, not because he didn't want to think about it but because the spurt of panic and the black bubble of rage still had the power to swallow him whole. Would she have told him? If they weren't stranded onboard this ship, if she'd had a choice, would he have even known he had a child? Or would she have let him walk away, writing him off as just another mistake?

Given the way he'd treated her, he was desperately afraid it was the second, and he wasn't sure how to live with that. Only an idiot would believe she had any reason to trust him, and he liked to think his idiocy was generally limited to his personal relationships. Where would she have gone? What would she have done? Would she have been okay? Would she have told him if she wasn't?

Just before sleep dragged him under he caught himself drifting, asking, "What happens now?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This picks up right after "Sabotage", S1 E16**

**TJ's POV**

It had been two weeks, and she hadn't sought him out again. It wasn't that she was chicken, TJ assured herself as she catalogued the medicinals she'd brought back from the last planet they visited. She'd just been busy. And getting used to sharing these moments with him wasn't a good idea.

Young was still a full-bird colonel in the USAF. She was still a lieutenant under his command. Ever since he'd ended their affair she'd done everything she could to make sure she didn't forget that. It was hard enough to remember to forget she knew every inch of his skin as intimately as she knew her own when they _didn't_ touch. When they _didn't _talk. When she didn't fall asleep at night with the memory of how it felt to stand eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe, in the dark with him while their baby bounced between them.

If they made a regular habit out of this, she wasn't sure how long it was going to be before she did something stupid, like asking him to leave his wife and raise this baby with her. Like asking him to stay with her if…when…they got back to Earth.

Like admitting she was willing to take whatever scraps he was willing to throw her way right now if it meant she didn't have to be alone. She really didn't want to go down that particular rabbit hole again, and there was no way they'd be able to keep it between them if they did.

There were no secrets on Destiny. Half the ship knew who the father of her baby was. The other half had a pretty damn good idea. There just weren't that many possibilities. She hadn't gone back to Earth during the ten months she'd been on Icarus, and everyone on Icarus had either been evacuated to Destiny or been killed when the planet exploded.

There would be no reason to be closed-mouthed about it if her baby's father had died defending the base. No one would care if she'd had a fling with a civilian, and as a medic TJ had reported directly to Dr. Simms, not to a superior officer. Fraternization regs were fairly grey at that point.

_Except, of course, where Colonel Young was concerned. Only she would be stupid enough to sleep with the __**only**__ man on Icarus the U.S. military actually gave a damn whether she was involved with or not._

Bottom line, she wouldn't have to keep her baby's paternity a secret if he was dead. Which meant he wasn't dead. Which meant he was on Destiny. And since there weren't many men on Destiny she wouldn't feel comfortable admitting were the baby's father…

Well. There just weren't that many possibilities, and you didn't land a position with the SGC by not being able to connect the dots. Despite the power struggle raging between Wray, Rush and Colonel Young, however, no one had used the information as leverage to remove Young from command. In fact, it seemed like a lot of the petty squabbling between them had died down since her pregnancy became public knowledge. Destiny had closed ranks to support her and this baby, and that included making sure it had a father. She was grateful for that.

Dropping her pen on the page in front of her, TJ pressed her fingertips to her eyes and sighed. She was so damn _tired._ Franklin was gone. James's vocabulary seemed to be limited to "Yes sir" and "No sir" these days. They were almost completely out of antibiotics, and no matter how hard she looked she hadn't been able to find any more on any of the planets they'd visited. Almost half the crew was still being treated for their injuries from the last alien strike, and she couldn't get through the day without feeling like she needed a nap.

She didn't have time for this. Laying her head down on her folded arms, she fought back the urge to cry. Five minutes. She just needed five minutes of peace. Then she could deal with whatever crisis Destiny decided to toss her way next.

************************************************************************************"

TJ?" Chloe gently shook her shoulder, scrunching her forehead in concern when she didn't answer. Looking over at Matt, who was sitting on one of the infirmary beds holding a folded piece of tent canvas to a swollen, bleeding gash on his head, Chloe tried not to panic. "She won't wake up. I can't wake her up. What do I do?"

"Relax. She's been dead on her feet for days." Matt hopped down, swaying dizzily when his feet touched the floor. Chloe rushed over and, after taking a quick glance around the infirmary to make sure Greer was nowhere in sight, he gratefully accepted her steadying arm. "She's just sleeping."

Wobbling over to the sleeping blonde, Matt winced before reaching down and giving her shoulder a pinch. He hated to wake her up, but the indigenous population of squirrels on the planet they'd just gotten back from had taken the visitors to their turf fairly personally. One of them had managed to catch him right across the temple with some mini-spear thingy. The end had been dipped in some kind of poison, and he was bleeding like a stuck hog while the side of his face swelled miserably with infection.

Greer had ragged on him mercilessly the whole walk back to the gate about getting his ass kicked by a squirrel. He was never going to live this one down.

TJ still wasn't moving. Scowling, Matt gave her a hard shake, then checked her pulse. Her heartbeat was steady, her breathing was even. She just wasn't waking up. She'd always been a sound sleeper, but not _this _sound. This was _not_ good. Picking up his radio, he pressed the button and said the words he'd really been hoping he wasn't going to have to say. Ever.

"Colonel Young, can you come to the infirmary? We have a problem."

"This is Young. What's going on?"

"There's something wrong with TJ."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Most of you will recognize this, but for those of you who missed it: In "Sabotage", before he uses the chair, Colonel Young wrote letters to both TJ and "Matthew" (Matthew, not Lt. Scott) and left them on his desk for them to find in case he didn't make it back. This picks up sometime after they jump into FTL, when he's contemplating what he should do with those letters-another point the show left us hanging on!**

**While I have you, thank you SO MUCH to everyone that's taken the time to review. I know I haven't answered all of them, but they've all been read and much appreciated, and I will dedicate myself to being less of a slacker in the future. Oh, and geekyJade, your DM is turned off, but I made sure I wrapped this up and got it posted tonight (this morning) just for you. **

**Okay, I'll shut up now. On with the show!**

**Young's POV**

The paper crinkled beneath his calloused fingertips. Turning the letters carefully in his hands, he leaned against the door to his quarters and wondered. What did he do with them now? Did he shred them? Hide them? Leave them on his desk for the next time he'd be asked to put his life on the line for the survival of the Destiny and her crew?

Snorting, he walked over to sit on the edge of his bed, setting both pieces carefully on the bedside table. They looked…wrong, somehow, next to his military-issue watch and the small handful of belongings he'd managed to bring with him to Destiny. Ah well. Maybe today wasn't the day, but he was going to need them sooner or later. Being the commander of this ship required a carefully cultivated death wish, and while he'd have denied it when he first got here, these days he was really starting to wonder.

First the shuttle. He'd never forget that Senator Armstrong's sacrifice had given Destiny's crew precious, precious time, but not a night went by that he didn't bitterly regret that the sacrifice hadn't been his. The ghosts in Chloe's eyes haunted him too. Then it had been the star, when he'd willingly pulled his name out of the lottery so that someone else would have a chance to live. Regardless of his suspicions to the contrary, he couldn't believe that Rush had known they were going to survive that trip. Then the chair-which, after what it had done to Dr. Franklin the first time he'd sat in it, had promised a fate worse than death.

As a fresh-faced airman, he'd had dreams of going out in a blaze of glory. It was incredibly ironic that now that he'd finally gotten his priorities straight and found something to live for, now that dreams of glory had been replaced by dreams of walkers and retirement and watching his children grow, death insisted on spending its days camped outside his door.

He'd told Emily he was going to do everything he could to get home to her. He'd never been so sure that everything he could do wasn't going to be nearly good enough.

What would they have said? Young laughed at himself. No point in wondering what they would have said after he was dead. Matt, he knew, would take his advice (and his warning about Rush) to heart, and do a damn fine job running this ship. TJ...

The truth was, he didn't know what TJ would say. Her letter had been much more difficult to write than Matt's, because really, what was there to say? That he was sorry? She knew that already. That even though he knew he should, he couldn't regret a second of the time they'd spent on Icarus? She'd know he was lying. That he wished things could have been different? No matter how true those words were, no matter how much he wished he'd been free when he met her and set them both on this path, it wasn't fair. Because they both knew if they were back on Earth right now he'd be in Washington with Emily, and TJ would be starting a new life a thousand miles from anywhere he called home.

So in the end he'd wished her well, and asked her to give his love to the child they'd made together he was never going to see grow up. He also tacked a note to General O'Neill at the bottom, asking that part of his death benefits be allotted to TJ and the baby. They were entitled to them, and it was the least he could do. Now that he had miraculously escaped committing suicide one more time in the name of duty and honor, he could take care of that himself.

At the rate he was going, it was going to be the only thing he could give to that baby. He knew by now TJ had figured out what he was planning to do-she'd been the last one to come to their little morning huddle and the first one to slip out, and he could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees when she walked in. He'd be lucky if she didn't decide to lock him out of her life entirely, at least as far as you could on a ship the size of Destiny, and his baby's while she was at it.

The crackle of his radio interrupted his mind from wandering any further.

"Colonel Young, can you come to the infirmary? We have a problem."

Hell. On Destiny, when didn't they have a problem? If he could get through the day without something on this rust bucket threatening to blow up, or someone else deciding they'd rather have said rust bucket blowing up with _them_ in it than Destiny's current occupants, he'd…he'd…

Okay, he didn't know _what_ he was going to do. Fortunately, it looked like he wasn't going to have to figure it out any time soon.

"This is Young. What's going on?"

"There's something wrong with TJ."

The words were enough to freeze the blood in his veins. When they'd first boarded Destiny he'd been determined to treat TJ as just another member of his crew. Just another medic whose contributions helped keep his team alive. That hadn't lasted long. TJ had been the obvious choice when he was choosing people to leave in that damned shuttle, but he couldn't escape the fact that even had he not been able to justify her presence as one of the two (as much as Rush would have liked to have believed otherwise, he'd never been a logical choice), he'd have found a way to send her anyway.

Knowing that TJ's fate was his child's as well, he was twice as determined to make sure she survived this mess and got off this damned ship. Which was why his feet were already moving before the static had died from Scott's last words.

"I'm on my way."

When he got to the infirmary he found Scott, whose untreated injuries looked like hell, laying an unmoving TJ gently down. Chloe was in tears.

"What's going on?"

Young cleared his throat, embarrassed at the raspy panic in his voice.

"I don't know sir." Matt waved a helpless hand at the still figure, looking pale and helpless against the white sheets on the infirmary bed. "She was hunched over her desk like she was sleeping, but we couldn't wake her up."

"Some kind of alien virus?" Memories of all the mission reports he'd read from SG-1 and Atlantis raced through his head. A hundred variations of a hundred different worst-case scenarios. It was one of the rare moments he wished he hadn't been so diligent about doing his homework when he was stationed at the SGC.

"I don't know. No one else seems to be sick." Chloe's face was red and blotchy, but now that there was someone there to deal with it her tears had started to slow down. They trusted him to figure out what was wrong and fix it. He wished, desperately, he had someone he could pass that responsibility onto. Then maybe he wouldn't feel like he was falling apart.

"All right. Let's use the communication stones and get a doctor onboard. No point in panicking until we know there's something to panic about." He worked up a smile-a weak one, to be sure, but it seemed to make both of them feel better. Matt caught Chloe by the hand and pulled her out of the room. He turned back to TJ, reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of her face. Sleeping Beauty, he thought fancifully. Too bad this time true love's kiss wasn't enough to wake her up.


	6. Chapter 6

**TJ's POV**

Ugh. Why did her mouth taste like she'd been licking a copper pipe? Shifting, TJ realized with a swift spike of fear that she wasn't sitting at her desk. She was lying somewhere dark and soft, with something heavy draped over her. Her newly sensitized sense of smell told her the infirmary grade alcohol Brody brewed for her was nowhere to be found. Instead, it smelled like…stale air and sweat and just a touch of…

When her brain and her olfactory senses connected to identify the other smell in the room her eyes snapped open.

"Hey." The Colonel tipped his glasses down his nose, peering over the top of a sheet of paper with a smile. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep all day."

"I didn't mean to sleep at all." Gently pushing the blankets and the service jacket-_his _service jacket-off of her shoulders, TJ sat up and put a hand to her forehead. God, her head was pounding. "What the hell happened? How did I end up…here?" She lifted her hand, then dropped it down again. How did she go from her infirmary to the Colonel's quarters? To the Colonel's _bed_? A firm foot against her ribs had her hand drifting down to absently rub her stomach while she tried not to think too hard about how nice it had felt to wake up wrapped in his scent, or how vulnerable she felt now, sitting barefoot in his bed with her feet tucked under her like a child.

"Chloe and Lieutenant Scott found you hunched over your desk. Dr. Brightman managed to get you to come around a couple of times, but you were pretty determined to stay asleep. Brody and Riley managed to blow something up, so the infirmary started filling up. They needed the beds, and Dr. Brightman had her hands full, so I offered to keep an eye on you down here." His words were light, but there was real concern on his face. Nodding at the jacket she still had in her hands, he said softly, "You, um, you were shivering, so…" She nodded, and his face relaxed. "How are you feeling?"

Crap. Scrubbing gritty eyes, TJ dug through her foggy brain trying to remember something-anything-about what had happened that afternoon. She remembered staring at the screen, exhaustion dragging at her, then laying her head down. Then…nothing. Almost nothing. Now that he mentioned it, she had a hazy memory of seeing Major Barnes's face, and hearing the chatter of voices, but it hadn't seemed important at the time.

"Tired. What, um, what did Dr. Brightman say?"

The lines around his eyes dug in a little deeper. "She, ah, said we weren't taking care of you." Guilt laced the edges of his words now. "Said your blood pressure was too low, your sugar was probably off and you were running yourself ragged. You're, um…" Standing up, he came around to lean against the front of his desk. "You're supposed to take three days of R&R, then come back on light duty for the next week or so."

Yeah, like that was going to happen. If she could make it a day on Destiny without someone coming to track her down for _something_, it was only a matter of time before something else went horribly, horribly wrong. "All due respect, sir, you know I can't do that."

"You can and you will, Lieutenant." The brusque, no-nonsense tone took her by surprise. "Corporal Barnes and Camille are back on Earth. Dr. Porter and Dr. Brightman are down in the infirmary, and they'll be filling in for you until you're back on your feet. I, ah…" Ruddy cheeks grew even ruddier while he stared uncomfortably at his feet. "I understand Dr. Brightman would like to continue seeing you regularly after that to monitor your condition." He peered bashfully up at her through his lashes. "Something about you being a damn idiot for not getting pre-natal care before this and me being an even bigger idiot for letting you."

Her heart turned over in her chest. There was something so _personal_ in that look, something that whispered about intimate secrets and moments shared between the two of them. She caught herself smiling back. This is what it would have been like if their relationship had been anything resembling normal. If they'd been able to share the stages of her pregnancy together. Sighing, she balled his jacket up in her hands, unconsciously holding it closer.

"Takes two people to cover for me, huh?"

The Colonel laughed. "What can I say? Dr. Porter will accompany our away teams, Dr. Brightman will oversee things onboard." His eyes softened, gentled, until she felt the kiss across her cheeks like a lover's touch, leaving trails of heat in their wake. "You fill some pretty big shoes, TJ. I know I haven't told you often enough how much I appreciate that."

What did she say to that? There was nothing she could say, so she curled back up into the pillows and let the silence drag out. Like a magnet pulling an unwilling target he pushed away from the desk, walking slowly across the room. TJ felt her heart pound in time with his steps, her head spinning slightly when he perched on the edge of the bed and brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

"You scared me," he murmured softly, so softly it was more a rustle of air across her cheeks than actual words.

"I know."

A rough, calloused thumb traced lightly across his hairline, reminding her abruptly of other soft touches on other nights. Suddenly the room was too quiet, the closed door offering too much privacy between them and the world outside. His breathing grew labored as their eyes locked, matching hers when he leaned forward until his lips were just a hairsbreadth from hers. She watched, eyes huge, while he hovered over her mouth for endless seconds, then lightly pressed his mouth to her cheek. She wasn't sure which one of them looked more disappointed when he pulled back, tucked the blanket and jacket back up around her shoulders, and walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This picks up at the end of "Pain", which, admittedly, wasn't my favorite episode, but had some really nice Young/TJ moments in it when she was very, very pregnant and he was very, very annoyed that she was going to expose herself to a neurotoxic tick that was going to make her hallucinate and, possibly, go batshit crazy!**

**I'm still not sure how long this story's going to be, although I have a feeling I'm going to end up following the pair through Season 2 now (since I'm DYING to get into Young's head during the first few episodes of Season 2 and find out what he and TJ said to each other in that infirmary) so while updates may be infrequent until inspiration strikes, they will be there. Popping up in a series of one- and two-shots that play in our favorite couple's heads!**

**Young's POV**

He wasn't going to survive until she had that damn baby. Watching his team go through the gate, he knew he had a hundred other things he should have been doing. The ticks had brought out his crew's greatest desires and their deepest fears, and that James had hallucinated killing Scott with so much detail that she still went out of her way to avoid her rooms was too disturbing to ignore. Since they didn't have a psychologist on board, Camille was out of the question and TJ was up to her elbows researching ways to make good use of their unexpected guests, he was going to have to play Father Confessor and figure out what was going on between the two of them once and for all.

God, he hated getting into his crew's personal life like that. He was going to have to sit down and talk to Greer too, make sure the experienced soldier didn't find himself so buried in guilt for his part in this whole mess that he couldn't dig himself out. The man was loyal to a fault, and if Young didn't get himself off this pedestal they were both going to be screwed when he crashed and burned once and for all. The thought of _that_ conversation was just about as pleasant as talking to James. He'd gone out of his way to schedule Rush and Camille in first-and he didn't even want to think about what that said about him, since both of them barely blipped on his radar as anything more than a necessary evil he had to tolerate if he was going to get his crew home alive. But they didn't demand any more emotional connection from him than he was ready to give. Rush had a laundry list of supplies they were running low on. Camille was trying to throw herself back into work feet-first after being shot, and the relationship between her determination to leave the whole affair behind her and the length of his to-do list was too coincidental to be a coincidence.

But even though he knew Rush and Camille were both waiting in his office for their requisite piece of his hide, he left the Gate Room in the other direction, pulled almost involuntarily toward the infirmary and the woman inside. Ranking medical officer or not, he'd wanted to throttle her when she refused to get herself out of the line of fire of those damn ticks. The whole incident with Greer proved they weren't nearly as harmless as they seemed, and his heart climbed up into his throat to choke him every time he thought about what could have happened if Greer had taken that firearm to TJ instead. If she wasn't military, if she was just someone he saw as an intruder on his ship. Or if Rush had seen her as one of the aliens he'd confessed to hallucinating in that damn room, if she had been the one he'd tackled, slammed to the floor. And that's not even talking about what pumping her body full of neurotoxin could have done to their baby.

Their baby. That's what it was, he realized, what the last two months had made it. It wasn't their mistake, or their penance. It was their baby, and in that baby, a chance at redemption for them both. A chance to take their whole crazy, fucked-up relationship and turn it into something good, a baby with his ability to survive and TJ's ability to smile while they were doing it. But damn it, he had to keep her alive long enough for that to happen, and if she kept insisting on plunging face-first into these stupid misadventures he wasn't going to be able to do that. And he'd have failed her. Again. He didn't think he was going to be able to deal with that.

His anxious musings, driven by the need to see with his own eyes (again) that she had walked away from this mess unscathed, helped him work up a full head of steam between the gate room and the infirmary…all of which leaked away when he stepped silently into the room and saw her sitting on a bed, her arms wrapped around a sobbing Vanessa James. Her head was pressed against James's forehead, and between sobs the two women were speaking in a voice too low for him to hear.

Silently, he backed out, trying not to feel guilty about the twinge of relief gnawing at his gut. If TJ was working this out with James, maybe he wouldn't have to. And he had to admit, as he started walking down the hallway to find Greer and get this over with, that the loss of a couple pounds of weight off his shoulders felt good.


	8. Chapter 8

**TJ's POV**

_**This picks up during Subversion, and follows TJ's POV after the baby shower. **_

Giggling, she held up the tiny t-shirt Chloe had sewn for the baby. Who would have imagined that her friends would have taken the time and effort to not only make gifts for the baby, but throw her an entire shower? It was so…normal. So ordinary. So "not caught in the middle of outer space, with very little hope of surviving and almost no chance of getting back home". Maybe they all needed normal right now. Maybe they just knew that she desperately needed _something _normal in the middle of this crazy, mixed-up mess. Either way, reaching out to run the tips of her fingers along the edge of the tiny metal truck, she felt blessed, truly blessed, for the first time since that moment on Icarus when the Colonel had called her into his office and told her it was over.

Talk about remembering the happiest times of your life. TJ wrinkled her nose. Memories of that moment sucked some of the pleasure out of the day (even if they were chased by the very satisfying but equally painful memories of how they'd christened his desk only days before he'd stood behind it and dumped her) and she firmly pushed them aside. This was a happy day. She wasn't going to let it be spoiled by thinking about what was, or what might have been.

The baby squirmed restlessly, protesting the lack of space. Reaching down, she absently rubbed the mound of her belly. Her girth was rapidly reaching astronomical proportions. She'd long since given up hope of fitting into her own uniform pants. She'd borrowed a couple of pairs from a few of the marines on board, wriggling them over her hips and using a piece of fishing line from the Colonel's pack to hold them up. She was getting away with it now, but only because she'd been so small before this baby decided to come along. Another month and it might be a different story.

Wonder what the guys would say if she started running around the ship in Volker's shirt and a pair of boxers and not much else? She was horribly afraid she was going to have to find out. Then again, things being what they were, there was a good chance she wasn't going to make it that long. The Braxton Hicks contractions had already begun. Dr. Brightman had noticed a considerable amount of effacement on her last exam, and her cervix had begun to dilate, both surefire signs that labor was sneaking up faster than it should be for someone seven months along.

Brightman was making noise about putting her on bedrest if it continued, but they both knew it wasn't going to happen. Not on Destiny. Even if she tried, some crisis or another would come along and TJ would be right back on her feet. Brightman was good, but she wasn't used to dealing with the restrictions of working on the poorly stocked ship. TJ was. And a small part of her, one she wasn't particularly proud of, was happy about that. She might not have been a doctor, but that infirmary was _hers _and everybody knew it.

She hadn't told the Colonel yet. She knew if he caught wind of the fact that there was a chance she'd be going into labor early he'd have her tied to the bed. Getting to get off this ship was the only thing keeping her sane these days, and she was sure he'd have her chained to the ship soon enough. Somehow, TJ just couldn't see him washing diapers or walking a tiny, fussy toddler back to sleep.

But then, sometimes she could, in perfect detail. And it was the second one that scared her the most.

Stretching out on her side, she moaned at the relief lying down brought her aching back. She'd have given anything to be able to hunt the Colonel down and have him rub it for her, but she knew he was busy with Telford. Pity. He was surprisingly good at it, his fingers unerringly finding the spots that would give her the most relief. She'd slipped into his quarters more than once at the end of a long day these past few weeks, enjoying the masochistic pleasure of unbuttoning her shirt, wrapping herself up in his blankets and curling up in his bed, soaking in the scent of him on his bed. She reveled in the strokes of his hands on her skin and the heat that built up between them until they were both trembling with need and one of them had the good sense to call uncle. Sometimes he'd crack, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to her shoulder while his hand caressed the smooth lines of her abdomen. He always pulled back afterward, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't quite regret it. It was those moments that kept her going through times like this, when she was lying in her bed alone wondering what would happen after the baby came and she didn't have an excuse to go to him anymore.

Those unpleasant thoughts sent her into a restless sleep, filled with unhappy dreams, blessedly interrupted by somebody pounding on her door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi! Did you miss me? I've been out of the fanfic game for a bit, giving my mind a much needed recharge-however, a few one-shots for Dr. Who later I was itchy to pick this one back up. Call me a hopeless romantic. Or not. Whatever. Anyway, if you're still listening, this picks up shortly after the scene between TJ and Young in "Incursion" when he tells her he wants her safe and confides he's planning to evacuate the atmosphere in the gate room. **

**Young's POV**

"TJ…"

"I'll do my best, sir."

It wasn't the understanding I was hoping for-but then, understanding from TJ was probably more than I deserved on this one. Evacuating the atmosphere from the gate room, killing everyone that came on board, wasn't something I _wanted_ to do. It was a terrible, impossible choice, the kind of choice that you don't realize you're going to have to make when you're promoted. When you get that command you've been waiting for, and realize after the fact that you really don't want it after all. Because at the end of the day, it means you're the one who has to decide who's going to live, and who's going to die.

Spend enough time on Destiny, you realize that's a choice that shouldn't be left in _anyone's_ hands. Ever. Decisions like these were what drove great men to do terrible things.

I'd never been a great man. Didn't even consider myself a particularly good man, when you got right down to it. That didn't make the scorn and the disgust in her eyes any easier to deal with.

Stubborn, thick-headed woman. Damn it, what was I supposed to do? If there hadn't been other people in the room, I probably would have screamed it at her. She'd have heard me. Not just the words, but the thoughts beneath them. Give me another way. Show me another way out of this mess. One that doesn't involve me putting her and my child on the front lines, because if the Lucian Alliance broke out of that gate room that's exactly where they would be. No place on this ship would be safe for her. For any of us.

Getting them all home safe was worth a little more tar on my soul. God knows it was black enough as it was. But that didn't stop me from wishing I could, just for a second, drop to my knees, rest my head on stomach the way I had so many times before. Drink strength from her, that small, slim, capable woman who was handling the challenges Destiny threw out so much better than I could. Let her run her fingers through my hair and lie to me, tell me everything would be alright.

But it wouldn't, would it? No point in pretending otherwise. So I brushed all thoughts of forgiveness and understanding out of my head and headed for the gate room. The only that mattered, the only thing that could matter right now, was getting everyone through this. If we were both alive when this was done, we could argue about it then.


	10. Chapter 10

**TJ's POV**

She knew he was there, didn't even have to open her eyes to recognize the smell of sweat and exhaustion rolling off of him. The touch of his hand when he laced his fingers through hers told her who it was long before he started to speak.

"TJ…I'm so sorry."

He knew. Opening her eyes, she stared up at him blankly. The grief and heartache on his face echoed the roiling emptiness inside her heart, the unnatural feeling of her suddenly flat stomach. Well. Mirth jingled wryly in her mind, if not necessarily on her face. Her somewhat flat stomach. Flatter than it had been, which wasn't saying much. She'd looked like a waddling balloon when she…when they…

Her mind shied away from following that thought, from focusing on the precious baby girl that she knew, somewhere in her heart, hadn't survived the ordeal. 'No, TJ, can't think like that. She's safe,' she told herself firmly, clinging to the thread of hope that had gotten her through the long, lonely night before he came. 'She's on the planet with Brody and the others. She'll grow up there, someday, just like you wanted her to.'

She knew from talking to some of the other women on board that it would be months before her previously petite figure went back to normal. She also knew, technically, that it was normal for her mind to bounce around like this, to focus on trivialities instead of trying to focus on what she'd lost. What she'd never really had. Not only her daughter, but him too.

He was still talking, telling her what happened. Who had lived. Who had died. What was coming next. He didn't mention their daughter again, after those first words. She wanted to scream at him. Make him be quiet. Stop making her remember that even though Carmen was gone, life went on. That as soon as she was well, she'd be at Destiny's helm again. Patching cuts and bruises. Finding improbable cures for an impossible disease. Playing peacekeeper.

Watching the man she loved pick up the pieces of his life without her.

She'd lost more than Carmen that day. Turning away, she ignored his flinch of pain so he wouldn't see her tears. Oh yes, she'd lost more than Carmen that day. Somehow, over the past few months, she'd done something insanely stupid. She'd started to dream. To dream of a life on Destiny, her, Carmen and the Colonel.

It had been almost a year. They weren't going home. There was no way to get from Destiny back to Earth. Why couldn't they? The question had nagged at her more and more often as time went by. It was an open secret now. Everyone on Destiny knew her baby was the Colonel's. No one cared. She'd talked about it with Wray, right before the attack. In coded words and carefully guarded phrases, of course. It wouldn't do to just come out and say it. But right before she'd left Camile had hesitated, then placed a gentle hand on the curve of her stomach.

It drove TJ mad, the way people assumed that a pregnant woman absolutely, positively needed to have everyone's hands all over her. But coming from Camile Wray, those gestures of affection were rare enough that she didn't really mind.

"He's a good man, isn't he?" she'd said quietly, looking into TJ's face. "It's hard to tell sometimes, when he and Rush get started, but I have to believe that somewhere underneath all that is a good man." Lifting her hand, she'd smiled and stepped back. "I wish you all the best, TJ. I truly do."

Then Camile had turned and bustled down the corridor, leaving TJ staring after her. Filled with disbelief, and something that felt suspiciously like hope. If the IOA's representative wasn't going to raise a stink about the two of them, would anyone else onboard Destiny really care? Would anyone on Earth even bother with their tiny little family? Or would they be left alone, to live what was left of their life in peace out there in the stars?

She'd dreamed. Oh yes, she'd dreamed. But those dreams were gone now. Without the baby tying them together, there was nothing. Nothing left for either of them. So she turned her head, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the pain in her stomach when she cried that night, sobs wracking her body in that tiny infirmary bed while she played back the last words he'd whispered in her ear right before he walked away.

"I loved her too."


	11. Chapter 11

**This takes place between Intervention and Aftermath, as TJ is trying to deal with the loss of her baby and Young…well. Young's just trying to deal with the fact that nobody's had the good grace to kill him yet. **

**Young's POV**

Another visit home. Shooting back another shot from Brody's still, he stares blindly into the cup. All he can see is the anger and disgust on Emily's face. Honestly, it's time he stopped going home on these little jaunts. Stopped trying to talk to her. Stopped trying to hang on to something that's been dead for a long time.

He thinks it's habit now. Spinning his wedding ring on the table, he wonders. How long has it been since he truly loved his wife? Not "love" her. Of course he loves her. She's the woman he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with. But _love_, the kind of love that puts stars in your eyes and makes it impossible to see any woman but her?

He hates to admit it, but it's been a very, very long time since he felt that way. And the guilt that comes with knowing that is worse than anything he's ever felt before, so he doesn't think about it. Because if he does start thinking about it, he's going to have to admit that her face isn't the one he sees when he closes his eyes. He doesn't _want_ to go home anymore. Not really. Not the way he did.

Oh, sure, he'd like to be back on Earth. Away from the Destiny and her petty squabbles. Away from days that drag on forever just trying to survive. A hot dog would be nice. A milk shake. A hot shower that wasn't interrupted by someone banging on the door.

But there are days, when he's sitting in what he supposes passes for a cafeteria here, surrounded by his crew, eating slop from whatever planet they've been on last, and he thinks, "This is it." Those rare, precious moments when they're laughing, glasses raised in toast to another successful landing, another day of having food to eat, and he realizes that he's happier in that second than he's been in a long time.

It doesn't last. It never lasts. Sooner or later something's going to blow up. Go wrong. Someone's going to get hurt. They'll be out of food, out of water, out of time. And people will look to him for answers that he doesn't have, expect him to perform miracles he doesn't know how to perform. Then Rush will step in and save the day, and he'll see the doubt, the indecision, the uncertainty in their eyes again. Questioning him, his leadership. Whether he's qualified to lead this expedition.

Hell no, he's not qualified. Snorting, he swallowed another gulp. If you could get it down fast enough, you barely noticed the fact that it tasted like motor oil. Nobody's qualified for this. But damn it, he's doing the best he can. He doesn't know how, but somehow, it's going to have to be enough.

Restless, he puts down the flask. Puts his shoes back on. Off to prowl Destiny's halls, hoping the wandering will help him stave off another sleepless night.

Of course, the first thing he does is run into TJ. Standing in front of the glass on the observation deck looking out, arms wrapped around herself the way she does every night. He knows she's grieving. She's been back to work for a while now, even though he told her not to. She said it made it easier. He thinks it just helps her forget. But god knows he can't do anything for her, so he just stands in the shadows and watches. Watches to make sure she doesn't overdo it. Sends people to see if she needs supplies, food, rest.

She thinks he's a heartless bastard, that he's forgotten their little girl. He sees it in her eyes, when she looks at him. Sees it now, when she turns to face him across the empty room.

He should turn around and go. Leave her to her thoughts. But tonight, with the memory of Emily's face dancing in front of his eyes and his daughter's mangled, lifeless body burned on his heart, he can't. Tonight, he just can't.

She doesn't know that he was the one who buried their baby. He didn't tell her, didn't want her to know the horror he felt when Matthew placed the small, wrapped body in his hands. She'd been incoherent, first with pain, then with grief, and he couldn't imagine that showing her would do her any good. So he'd dressed the body, put it in a box, and buried it with the rest of their dead.

In retrospect, it was a dumb idea. She'd certainly deserved the opportunity to see the little girl she'd worked so hard to bring into the world. To grieve for her properly. She'd hate him for taking that away from her, one day.

Just one more way he'd ruined her life. Walking over to stand next to her, he felt the guilt tugging at him. Guilt and something else, something that had him gently, slowly lifting an arm to wrap around her waist, to pull her head against his shoulder so they could stare out at the stars together. He breathed in the smell of her shampoo, the one she and Chloe had made together from some berries they'd found on some planet or another.

On the nights she'd come to his room, his pillows would smell of it for days. He missed that. Missed having an excuse to spend time with her, to see those walls drop, just a little. He was even masochistic enough to admit that he missed teasing them both with pieces of their own fantasies, going just far enough to remember how good it had been between them before it all came tumbling down. Those nights were gone now. The walls between them were a thousand feet high, and he didn't have the first clue how to start bringing them down.

Didn't know if he wanted to, truth be told. Destiny was making him old. Jaded. TJ deserved so much better than that. Part of him wanted to dig deep and find it. To try and be the man she wanted him to be. Part of him realized that it would be better if he didn't. Their relationship was already so messed up. He was still married. She'd just lost their child, the baby he hadn't even told Emily about. There were regulations. And quite frankly, he was a bastard.

No, she deserved better than him. He had nothing left to give her. Destiny was taking it all. But right then, with the stars flying by and the crew asleep, he could give her silence. Let her know with his arms, the feel of his breath in her hair, the things he'd never be able to say with his lips. That she wasn't alone. That he was grieving too. And that somehow, they'd get through this together.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sitting home re-watching "Stargate Universe" because I feel too cruddy to do anything else Of course, my little shipper heart just had to sit down and start writing another bite of this fanfic. It's a small one, but here we go. This picks up after "Aftermath". **

Okay. She snorted, trying to bite back the tears. No she wasn't okay. The hollow emptiness in her stomach where her daughter should have been safely curled against her heart was slowly driving her mad. That was nothing, however, compared to the pain in her heart when she looked into the Colonel's face and remembered those eyes-his eyes-peering out at her from her daughter's sweet little face.

And Reilly. Oh god, Reilly. She thought she hadn't had any more tears left. She would have sworn it. Yet here they were, scalding her cheeks at the memory of a young man who never should have died. Whose smiles and strange, youthful idealism had made the days a little brighter.

Remembering Reilly reminded her of the dull sheen in the Colonel's eyes when he walked away from that shuttle. She didn't have to ask to know what had happened. She knew. Greer knew. Matt knew. Reilly could have hung on for hours-long, agonizing hours that would have ended the exact same way.

It had been the humane thing to do. That didn't make it any easier to accept.

She wanted to hate him for it. Just more proof that he was the heartless bastard she'd called him so many nights in her dreams. But she knew what his team meant to him. What the life of every single man and woman under his command meant to him. Knowing that made it impossible for her to hate him the way she wanted to. The way she needed to, if she was ever going to get any measure of peace for this fire in her blood for a man who was so completely, miserably unsuitable for her.

That didn't stop her from lightly rapping on his door only a few short minutes later. And it did absolutely nothing to stop her heart from breaking a swish of the doors later at the tears still running down his cheeks.


End file.
